Vetements

No one can prepare a person for the downside to the spotlight. It’s been five years since Demna and Guram Gvasalia launched Vetements and saw the cult brand skyrocketing into pseudo establishment. They became the coolest kids in Paris and created something that had never happened before. In some ways, they even changed Paris. Five years on, the brothers live in Zurich, an anti-fashion bubble miles away from industry gossip, lies and attacks. Because with fame came scrutiny, first from their homeland of Georgia where the Gvasalias became national heroes and enemies of the state all at once. Heroes, because there aren’t that many Georgians who become the coolest kids in Paris. Enemies, because their lifestyles didn’t correspond to local norms. “I cannot go there because I’m gay,” Demna said after this evening’s show, which marked a departure from the strict no-narrative principle that has defined his work. “I always did shows that were just about clothes – nothing else really mattered to me – but I think my approach to fashion has changed,” he admitted. He based it on Georgia, the Abkhazia region of which he, Guram and their family fled (on foot) over the Caucasus mountains in 1993 amidst a civil war with which few are familiar. At least until this week.

Demna infused his trademark gritty, nostalgic streetwear aesthetic with Georgian flags, symbols and imbued messages –the word ‘Georgia’ on a gay rainbow or a Georgian flag parka – and layered the collection with all the aggressive balaclava hoodies, spiky boots and target print t-shirts that made him invite his shrink to come along in the first place. “I told her she should,” he quipped. Presented on the backs of forty models street-cast in Georgia, it was his absolution from memories of relocating from Abkhazia to Tbilisi, then Russia, then Düsseldorf, living in worlds he didn’t feel part of. “I use the models as a voice for those who don’t have one. They cannot demonstrate, they can’t say what they think. There is no real freedom,” he said, referring to Georgia. “And I lived through that. It was a very painful moment for me and I needed to put it out there. I got ready, finally.” Asked what the masks in the show meant, Demna accredited them to the erasure of identity. “That’s why I only talked about clothes and not about anything else,” he said of past collections. “I didn’t want story-telling because I was afraid of the story-telling. These masks represent me; how I always felt.”

But in all the aggression that filled this show – the collection in which still looked unmistakably Vetements – you couldn’t help but wonder if Georgia was the only thing on Demna and Guram’s minds. While the antagonism they’ve faced from Georgia, mainly through the internet, is undeniable, lately certain parts of the industry haven’t shown them the support they did in the early days of Vetements. When the brothers announced their move to Zurich, they were instantly labelled as tax-evading capitalists. News outlets have published factually unsupported stories questioning the brand’s sales and ability for reinvention. They’ve hit back as Georgians do – “the love of war is part of the Georgian mentality,” Demna said in an unrelated comment – but somehow this show felt like a bigger middle-finger not only directed at Georgia but at the gossip-mongers and ignoramuses of the digital age, who helped build them up only to revel in a downfall that thankfully hasn’t happened. Demna translated a Russian slogan featured on a garment as “Go sit on a big dick.” (Sorry, it’s all in the interest of journalism.) “It’s something I wanted to say for many years to many people. But I don’t have their numbers anymore,” he shrugged with half a smile.

Staged under a flyover in the barren Porte de la Vilette where models walked on wedding-style banqueting tables, it was hard not to read into the setting. It was hardly a case of water under the bridge. Rather, some of us recalled autumn/winter 2016 when Vetements designed a t-shirt with the words, "May the Bridges I Burn Light The Way." That flyover didn’t have to burn to get the Gvasalias’ statement across. At one point, Demna removed his jacket to reveal a bullet hole punched into the back of his t-shirt, which had a target print of the front. He likened it to the shootings he experienced in Georgia (he was actually shot at), but this was about survival on a bigger scale. “The personal approach,” he reflected. “I really enjoy it. This is what I’m going to be doing.” In the background, Marilyn Manson’s Better of Two Evils provided perfect poetry to the picture. “I'll be your scapegoat, I'll be your saviour, I'm the better of two evils,” the rocker sang before the chorus set in: “Haters call me bitch, call me faggot, call me whitey. But I am something that you'll never be.”